


Bad Medicine

by DasMervin, MrsHyde (DasMervin)



Series: The Writing on the Wall [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bitchy Dean, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas is a pervert too, Castiel Talks Dirty, Come Eating, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Dean Likes to Watch, Dean is a sap, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, He totally took Cas on a date, Headcanon, Homophobic Language, Horny Castiel, Human Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, Licking, Lube, M/M, Making Out, Naughtiness, Oral Sex, Perverted Dean, Porn, Pushy Castiel, Rimming, Rough Sex, Seduction, Shameless Smut, Slash, Sleepy Sex, Top Dean, Uncomfortable Dean, he just doesn't know it, safe sex, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/DasMervin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/MrsHyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is getting comfortable with the new physical aspects of his relationship with Cas, and Cas is testing the waters with his new freedom.  Really just another excuse for smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as another fic to soothe our need for porn, but halfway through it we realized that we just weren’t through with this series, and that there was still more story to tell. “Holy Water” was originally supposed to be the end, with Dean getting over all his denial, and with “Heartbeat” serving as a little coda to their fight, but the more we wrote, the more it became clear that while he’s no longer in denial about loving Cas, Dean still has heaps of internalized homophobia to deal with. So we’re getting him to deal with that part by writing him doing more and more “gay shit” with Cas so as to work him through his remaining difficulties with their relationship. So, yeah, it’s porn, but there’s a little bit of development in here needed to pave the way for the real series denouement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is a naughty little angel and takes advantage of their time alone to try out a few of the new things Dean taught him.

_August 16, 2023_

Jesus _Christ_ , Dean was burning up.

He’d snapped awake just a few seconds ago and had blinked at the darkened room before he’d been suddenly aware that he was fucking _hot_. And it didn’t take him long to figure out why; as he started flopping around on the gross, sweat-damp sheets, he could feel the heavy weight of way too many blankets on top of him and skinny arms and legs wrapped around him and a hot stomach pushed all up against his back.

Not to mention the bare hips and limp dick that were pressed very firmly against his own naked ass.

He growled and rolled away, flinging the pile of blankets off him and all onto Cas instead; the cooler air of the room hit him like a blast from the Arctic, and it was beautiful. But the sweaty, funky sheets he was still wallowing in were so _not_ , and so with a grunt he hove himself unsteadily to his feet.

Dean glared down at the misshapen lump in the bed. What the hell, man? Sharing a bed with Cas was like sleeping with a furnace anyway, but then he had to steal the blankets from the empty bed and bury him in ‘em. Then to add insult to injury, the douchetard went and had to make everything worse by _spooning_ with him and getting all pressed up against his ass. What next—would he turn the heat on, just to really complete his little game of burn-out?

The bitch. Dean grumbled to himself as his full bladder made itself known, and he shambled in the direction of the bathroom, guided by reflection of what little light there was in the room on the surface of the mirror. He didn’t turn the light on and just took aim and let fly, giving an unconscious sigh of relief as he had his morning piss.

Very _early_ morning, of course; the clock by the bed had said it was a little after four, and it was obviously still dark. He was _supposed_ to be getting to sleep in. They had a full day of driving ahead of them, after all, from Livingston, Montana, back to Sioux Falls, and Dean needed a good rest after last night. But, no, Cas thought it would be fun to roast him alive first. It was the middle of summer, goddammit! What the hell was his problem? It had been years—he had no excuses to still act like some kind of Heavenly Eskimo.

Huffing in annoyance, Dean shook off but didn’t flush, as was proper shared-motel room etiquette and everything. He of all people should know—don’t make a lot of noise so you won’t wake up whoever you were sharing with. Not that Cas wouldn’t deserve it if he had, given the situation, but Dean wouldn’t sink so low. He just twisted the tap open a little for a quick rinse of his hands and then shuffled back out into the room.

He wanted to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, even thought he wasn’t on fire anymore, he was still uncomfortably warm. The thought of getting back into _any_ bed—much less that gross, hot, and sweaty one with Cas—did not appeal in the slightest. What he definitely _did_ want was a cold drink, and it didn’t take much deliberation on his part to open up the mini fridge and grab a beer, popping the top for a delightfully cold and refreshing swig. Popping his neck a little, he meandered over to drop down onto the couch, swinging his legs up so he could stretch out with a sleepy sigh and just really spread himself out to enjoy the cool.

This hunt had been a complete dud. Mysterious random deaths, weird circumstances, messages in blood on the victims’ walls—sounded like a clear case of something supernatural with its panties in a twist. He and Sam had been stopped off at Bobby’s after a very successful tangle with a specter just ‘cause they happened to be in the neighborhood (for them, of course, that meant “within 500 miles”) when Sam had run across this possible case out in Montana. Dean had been ready to go, but Sam had been dragging his feet for some reason and ended up suggesting that Dean take Cas with him on this one.

Dean didn’t know what his problem was, but trying to ask if something was up with his stupid brother was always a useless cause. He could tell Sam wasn’t pissed at him about anything, at least, but had no idea why he suddenly had cold feet about a hunt. Dean eventually just figured that the specter had roughed him up a bit more than he was willing to admit, so the little puss just wanted to sit at home and lick his wounds without actually coming out and saying it. Fine—let Sam sit at home and lay around and be useless. Dean had then just told Cas to pack his stuff up and they’d go put down whatever was skinning people.

Only problem was that they’d arrived in Billings, Montana, to find the town in a buzz over the arrest of a serial killer who’d been plaguing the area, skinning his victims and leaving bizarre messages in their blood.

Well, shit.

Dean hated following up on leads only to find it was nothing. And this one was a particular poke in the eye because it had actually been something serious going on, only they’d been completely locked out of the loop.

Well, it was a good thing the psycho was behind bars, he supposed, but that still meant he’d driven over 700 miles for nothing. It might not have been so bad if they were actually, you know, in a cool spot, like if they’d been close to Vegas or something, but there wasn’t jack shit in friggin’ _Montana_. Being able to really open up the Impala and drive at top speed simply wasn’t enough of a draw (though it was awesome).

Well, not the kind of stuff he’d consider a good time anyway. While he’d been brooding over the injustice of it all, he’d realized that they were just an hour or two away from Yellowstone Park. He’d been there before—never hurt to stop and see what there was to see when he was on the road, and Yellowstone was one of those things that he’d definitely wanted to see just to say that he had (not to mention that, hippie nature-loving crap aside, it really was pretty fucking amazing).

Since he didn’t want to get right back on the road immediately, over lunch he’d offered to take Cas to go see the park, if he’d like to, since they were here and he was always into nature documentaries and whatever. And, naturally, Cas had been all over that like white on rice, all dorkily excited and practically bouncing in his seat like a little kid; Dean had had to tell him to shut up because he was embarrassing himself.

So they’d gone to Yellowstone to see all the sights. Cas loved crap like that; never appreciated roadside stops like the World’s Largest Frying Pan, but turn him loose in some kind of nature preserve or something and he could mince around in it for days. Which had been the case here, of course. Dean really should have known better, thinking that this would just be a day trip, but oh well—they’d ended up booking a room for the night in over in West Yellowstone. That way, Cas could go back the next day and see all the attractions that he hadn’t managed on the first go-round.

And it _was_ a cool trip, Dean could grudgingly admit, since it had been almost twenty years since he’d been here last (and dear God, but that was a depressing number). There had been some noticeable changes since then, what with the way the whole park got all scrambled up from time to time from all the crazy plate stuff going on below. So, as it turned out, there were still “new” things for Dean to see.

Cas liked looking at the new things too—while he hadn’t ever outright “been” to Yellowstone like that, he had “seen” it before. Like, _way_ before. But it was one thing for Sam to turn on the Discovery Channel to some dinosaur show back at the house and grill Cas for details about what it had _really_ been like; sitting out here in the open air surrounded by tourists and discussing what Cas had done back in the Jurassic Period was something else entirely. More than once Cas had started very seriously telling Dean all about what the place had been like a million years ago and how he’d liked this one spot better then or whatever and what he had been doing at the time, so Dean had had to hustle him along and away from the very odd looks he was getting from the people around them.

Idiot.

Speaking of, Dean opened his eyes where he’d been half-dozing and looked up at the sound of rustling coming from the bed. It didn’t take him long to spot Cas moving a little under the mountain of blankets. And then he moved again, and then again only more, and Dean guessed he wasn’t asleep anymore. And he was right; he was just taking another drink of his beer when Cas started fighting his way out of the piled blankets and managed to sit up.

“Dean?” he asked hoarsely to the room.

“Over here, Cas,” Dean answered, raising his beer at him even though he doubted he could see it. “Go back to sleep—I’ll be back in a bit.” And he would; it was way too early to be up, and he was still plenty tired. Only thing was, he was still plenty hot, too—he wasn’t getting back in that bed until he was good and ready.

Cas did as he was told and lay back down to go to sleep—only he didn’t. He kept wiggling around over there, fidgeting and rearranging the blankets, and before long he threw them all off again and just got up, padding over to the bathroom as Dean had done earlier. He turned on the light, and Dean snorted; he’d be sorry when he turned it off and came out blinded.

Dean resituated himself, settling more firmly against the arm and the back of the couch so he could lean his head back while Cas peed merrily away with the door hanging open. After he’d flushed, he came out and washed his hands with his usual, unnecessarily long obsessiveness, and of course he had to follow that up by brushing his teeth for even longer. Didn’t matter that he was going right back to bed, no, he had to go through this ridiculous routine every time he got out of bed or did anything in the bathroom. When Cas finally finished and reached around the doorjamb to turn off the light, he had to pause there in the partition to the main room because he couldn’t see, just as Dean had thought would happen.

Dean huffed in amusement; _he_ could see fine still, even though his eyes had adjusted a little with the light from bathroom, but they didn’t take long to get back to night-vision once it was out. As such, he had no trouble seeing Cas carefully start out into the room towards the bed. But then had to squint when the little twerp went and flicked on the bedside lamp, so he didn’t see immediately that Cas was taking a detour through the room that brought him right to the couch where Dean was relaxing.

However, it did mean that he could quite clearly see when Cas came to stand next to him with his package right there at eye-level, and Dean grimaced. Cas was still oblivious about just running around naked, even after all this time, and that included the fact that it still never occurred to him that nobody wanted to look at his junk. Dean turned away from him a little, but not enough that he missed it when Cas started to bend down, planting his knee on the cushions between Dean’s legs and bracing himself on the back of the couch as he leaned down.

Dean could only roll his eyes; God, here he went again. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already messed around a little before they’d gone to sleep. Or that they’d messed around a lot the night before, what with them being off the job and all. No, any time Cas got into a motel, he turned into a total nympho—to the point that Dean still had friggin’ _teeth marks_ on his ass from where Cas had gotten a little too full of himself last night and had bitten Dean hard right on the left butt cheek. The pissant.

Oh, what the hell—they were leaving in the morning and would be back at Bobby’s tomorrow night. A little quickie right now couldn’t hurt.

Just no biting this time.

Dean twisted around to set his beer down on the end table before dropping his left leg off the couch so that his foot was resting on the floor, giving Cas room to crawl all the way onto the couch and kneel over him. Huffing in half-amusement, half-exasperation, Dean grabbed Cas’s narrow hips to help hold him steady as he leaned down to kiss him.

His skin was warm beneath his hands, of course, courtesy of Blanket Mountain, and his mouth tasted all minty. Dean ran his hands slowly up his sides and around his back while Cas brought his free hand up to tug gently at the short hairs at the back of Dean’s neck. His kisses were soft but deep, which Dean liked, so he was almost annoyed when Cas’s mouth moved away. But he didn’t stay that way for long, ‘cause Cas was still kissing him, only now he was taking a leisurely path along his jaw, up to his ear, and then down his neck. Dean tilted his head back with a sigh as Cas found his pulse, like he always did, and paused to lick and nibble at him all over there.

He kept slowly dragging his hands up and down Cas’s sides and back while Cas worried on his neck, stroking all over his warm soft skin. Unsurprisingly, when Cas finally let go, he dropped further down so he could kiss and rub all over where Dean’s heart was thumping against his ribs before moving to latch onto Dean’s nipple with his lips. Dean made a small approving noise, running his hands over Cas’s shoulders now, occasionally threading his fingers through his hair.

Cas’s hands were playing over Dean’s chest and sides as his mouth slid over him, but it wasn’t long before his fingers started inching down, over his stomach, down to his hip, then tracing along his hipbone and moving inward. Between that and the way Cas was tugging at his nipple with his teeth, to the point that it was almost painful, well, he’d had enough of just laying back and taking it. He shifted a bit and got one hand against Cas’s ribs and the other cupping his jaw, using both to tug him back up. Cas got the signal and raised himself up with the help of the sofa back until he was at eye-level again so Dean could pull him forward and capture his lips with his own. He made a small _mmm_ as he slipped his tongue out and into Cas’s mouth, sliding it along Cas’s own, and Cas’s happy little answering sigh into his mouth prompted Dean to pull him just a little bit closer.

Dean decided that it was his turn to move—he nudged Cas to raise up on his knees a tad and then tilt his head so Dean could sit up and kiss his neck. He was nice and smooth—Cas always kept himself clean-shaven when they were on trips like this, which Dean definitely preferred. He thought he wouldn’t mind just hanging out here for a while, Cas’s skin under his tongue, his hands on his shoulders, and his soft breathing in his ear. Only problem there was that there was all that tasty skin below where he was nibbling, too. It wasn’t long before he started moving down to lick at the hollow of his throat, then to nip at his collarbones, and then further down to suck at his nipples and the surrounding soft flesh that he was cupping in his hands.

Cas was standing over him on his knees now, his hands in Dean’s hair, but Dean didn’t really notice much other than what he was kissing until he felt something fleshy and hot bump against his belly. He glanced down and could only snort with exasperated amusement that Cas always inspired. Jesus, Dean would almost swear that he was somehow really a friggin’ teenager—how the hell else could he go from total limp noodle to full-chubster so quick and with pretty much no provocation? Dean hadn’t even touched him there! Yeah, Dean was getting a little excited himself, what with their making out and knowing what was probably coming up in just a few minutes, but he certainly wasn’t poking Cas with a stiffie yet, now was he?

Snorting again, he moved back to Cas’s mouth, pulling him down with him as he wiggled to lie low against the arm of the couch. Cas was still kneeling on the cushions, only now he was hovering over him as much as anything, propped up with one arm again, the other around Dean’s shoulders. With this angle, his stiff prick was resting low on Dean’s stomach, and when Dean slid a hand down to give his ass a bit of a grope, Cas’s hips moved a little. Dean sucked in a small, quick breath as Cas’s hard-on dragged against his own semi-hard dick. Cas, though, blew out a much larger breath and gave his hips a little larger rock. And another. And another. He wasn’t actually lying down on him, so he wasn’t close enough for a real frot, but he kept up what he was doing anyway—as such, he was more or less rubbing his dick against Dean’s stomach.

Well, that wasn’t gonna get anything done. Not to mention that Cas just sitting there pretty much humping his stomach was kind of a turn off, so Dean paused the make-out to spit in his palm, and then, as he picked things back up again in the Tonguing Cas department, he reached down to curl his fingers around Cas’s dick.

Cas gave a bit of a grunt as Dean gripped him and started to stroke, and shortly after his kissing got a little more urgent. Dean just let him have at it; it was four in the morning, after all, and he was pleasantly dozy. He didn’t really mind having Cas on his hands and knees over him like this, and he certainly didn’t mind how he was kissing him harder and starting to move his hips against Dean’s hand. He was still plenty awake to watch what he was doing, though, keeping his fingers tight and using his thumb on the head of Cas’s cock the way that always made him crazy.

He wasn’t fooling around (well, except how he was, and he couldn’t help a small chuff of amusement against Cas’s mouth); he was gripping Cas’s prick tight and squeezing and stroking just right to get him off. There was no reason to draw things out—this was just a quick round and then back to sleep, he figured. And his efforts were working, too—Cas’s face was flushed and he was thrusting into Dean’s grip, and his kisses had gone sloppy as he licked all in and around Dean’s mouth.

As Cas moved to press his face against the crook of Dean’s neck with a tiny moan, an evil little impulse tickled the back of Dean’s brain—a little payback for Cas chewing on his ass last night. He stopped fondling Cas’s butt and instead reached around and down in front to squeeze Cas’s balls, making him quietly groan again. He kept squeezing them while he jacked him until Cas lifted his head back up to wildly kiss him. Dean finally let go then, and he sucked on Cas’s tongue to keep his mouth open until he got his hand up and pushed his index finger past Cas’s lips.

He was a good little angel and started licking and sucking Dean’s finger immediately, like he always did, which to Dean’s annoyance just stirred things up even more down south for himself (which it also always did, dammit). Well, it wasn’t his fault that the feel of Cas’s tongue on his finger and of his sucking lips tightly closed around it reminded him of _other_ things. That wasn’t the point, anyway.

Dean pulled his now-wet finger out of Cas’s mouth, dragging a small line from his bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss him again. Dean hadn’t let up on his jerking him off, and by now Cas was panting as he met Dean’s open mouth with a wet, wild kiss. Dean went along with it, and not just because it was nice—no, it just happened to work out great with his own plans. He dropped his hand down between Cas’s legs, pressing his palm against his balls again. He waited for just a moment, still jacking him hard and with Cas’s tongue in his mouth, before he reached back between his thighs and slid his wet finger right up Cas’s ass.

Cas sucked in a startled breath that came back out as a breathy moan, his whole body shivering. Dean smirked. _Gotcha._ He shifted his wrist, adjusted his grip, and then started to jerk Cas’s cock furiously, at the same time pushing deeper in his ass and crooking his finger just like he knew Cas liked it.

“Oh— _oh_ — _Dean!_ ” Cas gasped softly, and his whole body convulsed, his stomach flexing and his fingers digging hard into Dean’s shoulders, and Dean could feel Cas’s balls go tight where they were pressed against his wrist as his hips jerked wildly, his head thrown back as he let out soft little grunting sobs as he came.

…All over Dean.

Oh, son of a _bitch_.

His face twisted in disgust. _God_ dammit _, Cas._ He almost yanked his hand away from Cas right then, but no, that would be just cruel. So he just manned up and he forced himself to keep working him, both his cock and his ass, until Cas just sorta collapsed in a heap on top of him.

Grimacing, Dean pulled his finger out of him and wrenched his hand away. He didn’t feel better that only a little bit of come had gotten on his fingers, because that meant the rest of it had gone _everywhere else_. Shit, Cas had fucking blown his load _all over Dean’s stomach_! He’d just given him a fucking _money shot_ , the little jerkoff!

Dean started squirming—this was fucking _nasty_ , and he wanted it _off_ him. There was a _reason_ he always kept Cas on his side or his back for this: the idiot never paid attention and never had the sense (or the manners) to catch it when he came. If he wanted to spunk up all over himself, that was his business. But Dean never said he could come all over _him_ , for fuck’s sake!

And the worst part about all this was that despite being only a few inches away from a pearl necklace, sitting here with Cas’s warm little body on his, his lips and his breath on his neck, Dean’s own mostly-hard prick was showing no signs of going back down. Goddammit.

Cas finally seemed to be coming out of his post-orgasm stupor, at least enough to realize that Dean was trying to get him to move, and he sat up. He had his usual drippy sex-face on, but Dean really wasn’t in the mood for that. Even though he so didn’t want to see it, as Cas leaned up to try for his usual after-come kiss, Dean couldn’t keep his eyes from cutting down and seeing all that shit all over him. God, it looked even worse than it felt—how the fuck was that even possible?

Unsurprisingly, Cas noticed Dean scowling down at the Jizz Jackson Pollock, and he stopped leaning forward so he could instead glance down as well. He blinked for a second, looked back up at Dean, and then _finally_ , he was moving. He slid back on his knees and pulled his face away because he had—Cas was—

Oh shit—oh, _fuck_.

Cas was down there _licking it up_.

A tiny, breathless squeak escaped Dean, his mouth hanging open. _Oh,_ fuck _me, Cas is down there licking up his own skeet!_ Dean just stared, his blood suddenly on fire, as Cas ever so slowly made his way across his stomach. Every time he’d pause, his tongue would come out and lap up a drip, and mother _fuck_ , Dean could _see_ it, see it on his _tongue_ , and then holy _shit_ , Cas would _look_ right up at him as he swallowed it.

And he just kept doing it, over and over, not stopping until he’d completely licked Dean clean. As soon as he started to sit up, a satisfied look on his face, Dean finally snapped out of it and seized his arms, dragging him forward and on top of him in a ferocious kiss because he knew what he’d taste, and _yes_ , there it was—who the fuck cared that it was Cas’s, because all that mattered was that it was _in Cas’s mouth_ —

Dean finally broke off when he couldn’t breathe anymore—and really, Cas couldn’t either. They were both panting, and Dean didn’t miss that Cas looked so fucking pleased with himself that Dean wanted to throttle him. But there was no way he could do that because Cas had just wormed an arm down between them and grabbed Dean’s cock, which was standing at attention after that little stunt. Cas pushed up a little on one arm, kneeling over him so he could better grip Dean’s prick, squeezing and stroking him tight and slow. Dean closed his eyes, swallowing noisily as he tried to get his bearings back after—after _that_.

Cas was not helping, jacking him like he was, but Dean wasn’t about to tell him to stop. Oh, look—Cas sensed Dean was enjoying himself so he was a bastard and stopped all on his own, just gripping him loosely, and Dean opened his eyes. He was just about to demand just what the hell he thought he was doing, but the words kind of died in his throat when he saw the way Cas was looking at him.

His eyes were bright but he kept cutting them away, and the tip of his tongue poked out as he licked his lips, and he was fidgeting a little. He looked nervous—no, he looked fucking _coy_ , and that drove Dean _nuts_ when he did that, that little unsure thing. That goddamn _demure_ act of his…dammit, Cas _knew_ that scrambled his brains and made it where he couldn’t think straight—

“Dean?” he murmured, and Dean’s stomach did a slow roll, hearing him say his name while giving him that _look_. “Do you—” He paused, and Dean tried to process the fact that Cas was talking to him, which he usually didn’t do, but any thoughts he might have had kind of vanished when Cas did that tongue thing again, ducking his head a little and glancing off to the side.

And then he looked back at him, all big-eyed and shy. “Do you want me to…suck your cock?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. What the _fuck_ did he just say?!

Cas was looking down at him, half-nervous, half-expectant, but Dean could only gawp at him. What—what the _fuck_?! He _never_ asked that! He was never _supposed_ to say _anything_ like that—well, except that one time Dean _told_ him to say it, but—oh, son of a _bitch_ , was he—was he trying to _dirty-talk him_ —?!

“Can I, Dean?” Dean nearly jumped at the sound of Cas’s voice again, still shy, but now with a pleading note in it. “Can I suck your cock? Please?”

Dean’s mouth completely dried up. _Fuck._ He swallowed furiously, trying to say yes, _yes_ , Cas needed to suck his cock _right now_ , but his throat was locked up and he couldn’t make it fucking _work_ —

“Please let me suck it, Dean,” Cas begged, and Dean gave up trying to talk, just nodded frantically like a fucking bobble-head dog, _anything_ to get his dick in Cas’s mouth _now_.

Thank God Cas wasn’t wasting any time, because Dean was about to fucking _explode_. Cas just slithered down off the couch to the floor until he was on his knees next to him. Dean flopped wildly around like a landed fish, turning himself so that he was mostly leaning against the back of the couch instead of the arm, his left foot firmly on the floor and the right just dangling above the carpet. Cas was already moving up between his legs, his hand on his thighs, pushing them apart, and god-fucking- _dammit_ , he could feel his breath, see his tongue where he was fucking _licking his lips_ again and shit _shit SHIT_ why wasn’t he—oh, _fuck_ yes.

Dean’s eyes fell shut, his head lolling back against the sofa back as Cas’s wet mouth surrounded his prick, so hot and slippery and _exactly_ what he needed. He was moving at a steady, even pace, sucking just like Dean liked it, and doing that _thing_ with his tongue that he did. Dean took a deep breath and then opened his eyes, looking down, and there was Cas, looking back up at him, his head bobbing up and down as he sucked. Cas suddenly took a deep breath of his own, so Dean knew it was coming, but that didn’t stop his helpless gasp when Cas went all the way down, deep-throating him, swallowing every inch of his cock. At first he did it quick every time he went down, and then Dean could only groan when he went down and held it like he always did, his throat working. _God_ , Cas was fucking _amazing_ —it wasn’t _fair_ that he was this amazing. Cas only let go when he came up for air, and then he went back to that quick, hard sucking along with strokes of his hand.

Dean let out a quick exhale, fumbling down until he found Cas’s head, his hair soft under his fingers. “Yeah, that’s right—suck it, Cas,” he breathed, and then moaned quietly when Cas gave a _hmm_ of affirmation all around his dick.

Dean could only make a pathetic whining sound when Cas went deep one last time before pulling off his cock with a sharp suck to the head, but he definitely wasn’t done—no, now he was running his lips and tongue all up and down it. Dean writhed when Cas brought his tongue up to flick all over the head, and then god _damn_ , he was rubbing it with his thumbs and _spreading_ it and wiggling his tongue all up in his dick and all Dean could do was whimper.

“ _Shit_ —Cas—” he stuttered, not really even sure what he was going to say, just staring slack-jawed down at Cas as he watched Cas’s pink tongue on the head of his cock. But it didn’t matter, ‘cause then Cas was sucking it again and Dean really couldn’t say anything anyway.

Just when Dean thought he couldn’t take it anymore and that he was about to come, Cas let go. He eased off but still stroked him with his hand as he moved his mouth down to his balls. Dean never did that to Cas, but Cas always did it to him, sucking them into his mouth and then licking them all over like he was now while jerking his cock. And he was licking them _all_ over, the top and the sides and even up along the seam of his legs, and then down the insides of his thighs and back up—Dean’s stomach convulsed when he felt his tongue on the underside of his balls now, down low, all the way up the back, oh, _no_ , Cas had done that before, was he gonna—

No, he couldn’t, not _that_ again, he could _not_ do that again, but _fuck_ , Cas was pressing his face forward, his cheeks on his thighs as he strained forward and Dean could feel his tongue brushing first his butt cheeks and then on up to his taint, and now his hand was pushing on the underside of his right thigh, trying to push his leg up, no, no, _no_ —

“Dean?” Cas said suddenly, looking up. “Can I…?”

 _No!_ He forced his frozen jaw to unlock, managed to say, “C-Cas, you—I don’t—”

“Please, Dean?” Cas asked plaintively, his tongue wetting his lips. “Please can I…lick your ass?”

All that came out of Dean’s mouth was a choked wheeze. He just stared, his painfully-hard dick twitching in Cas’s loose grip, and dear _God_ , he was about to spontaneously combust, looking down at Cas, who was nibbling on his inner thigh and then flicking his tongue across his balls, looking fucking _hopeful_ down there. Then he was pushing on Dean’s thigh again and Dean felt himself drawing his leg up and back for him— _what the fuck was he doing_ , hooking his arm behind his knee, sticking his ass out off the edge of the couch, was he _out of his fucking mind_?!

Cas brightened, and Dean felt his hand on his leg, brushing along the back of his thigh and down to grab his butt cheek, and the other had let go of his cock and was pushing his legs wider, and holy fuckballs, Dean was _letting_ him, Dean was sitting here with his ass in the wind and spreading his legs and he was going to let Cas—

But then whatever he was thinking just completely shattered and all he could do was let out a helpless strangled noise when he felt the slow, rough swipe of Cas’s tongue on his asshole.

Dean heard a guttural groan, and it took him a minute to realize it had come from him. He squeezed his eyes shut, thumping the back of his head against the cushions in a losing battle to not go bugfuck insane. Cas was squeezing his cock again, jacking him tight and slow, and all the while alternating between long, slow licks all the way up his ass crack to his balls, and then little flickering ones right there on his asshole. He would pause now and again to make sure his tongue was covered with spit so it was all slippery, and Dean could _hear_ the little wet sounds he made as he licked, and Jesus H. Tap-dancing _Christ_ , where the fuck had he learned how to _do_ this?!

Dean’s arm was clenched around the back of his knee, his knuckles white, his breath coming in short sharp bursts. He fucking _loved_ getting eaten out—always had—only it was _Cas_ eating his ass right now and he was pretty sure that the very idea had fused all of the circuits in his brain together until there was just one big lump of mush in his skull. He opened his eyes and looked down and tried to make the connection between Cas’s big blue eyes looking innocently up at him from between his legs and the lips that had just closed around his asshole and started to _suck_ , and _fuck_ no, he couldn’t look at him like that because feeling was one thing but _seeing_ —no, no way, so he squeezed his eyes shut again even as an unwilling moan was dragged out of his throat.

Fuck—this was too much. He didn’t care Cas hadn’t been at it for long. He couldn’t take it anymore—couldn’t _stand_ it. He was done now— _Cas_ was done now.

“C-Cas, you— _fuck_ —” he tried, tried to tell him he needed to stop now but didn’t manage to get anything else out—oh, _sonofabitch_ , Cas took that as an _order_. Dean felt his hand spreading his cheeks a little wider, and then _shit-balls-fuck no_ , the point of his tongue was pressing against him, pressing _into_ him, and a keening noise escaped him as Cas started fucking his ass with his tongue.

Dean could only thrash his head back and forth, because he was going fucking _crazy_ , but Cas wasn’t stopping, no, he was still tonguing him, his hand tight on his cock and stroking just the right way to get him off. Dean was already way closer than he wanted to be, and now he could feel his balls getting tight— _no_ , goddammit, he could _not_ come like this, _would_ not come while Cas was tongue-fucking him like that! He didn’t care how fucking awesome it felt, he just _couldn’t_ —he fucking _refused_. He flung his arm downwards, groping blindly around until he found Cas’s hair, and the feel of his head under his hand moving back and forth and knowing he was pushing his tongue in and out of Dean’s asshole just about made him go off right there. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood and got his fingers tangled up in Cas’s hair and jerked him away, letting his leg go to fall back to the ground and pushing himself to sit up again. Cas was looking up at him, all big eyes and eagerness from down on his knees, and Dean, too far gone to think about how rough it was, dragged him forward by the hair and grabbed his own cock and pushed it up against Cas’s lips.

Cas started sucking him off again with all speed, and Dean groaned when that wet heat closed around his prick and set the furious pace with the hand he still had in Cas’s hair. Cas didn’t care and kept sucking, letting Dean make him take it all and still sucking hard and fast like he did when he knew the end game was near, and Dean’s balls were crunching up tight again. He curled in on himself, trying to hold off, but he knew that wasn’t happening. There was no way he was gonna last long now, not after watching Cas suck his cock and feeling Cas’s tongue up his ass and seeing Cas lick up his own spunk—oh fuck, that did it, he was gonna come—

His fingers knotted tighter in Cas’s hair and he yanked him backwards once more, hearing him gasp a little, but Dean could only think about seizing his own cock and grunting, “Open your mouth.”

And Cas rocked forward on his knees, obediently opening his mouth, his tongue sliding out just past his lips, and Dean’s fingers clenched in his hair, tilting his head back and holding it right there, right where he wanted it, and he jerked his cock fiercely and Jesus- _fuck_ , he was coming, was fucking _coming in Cas’s mouth_ , and he forced his eyes to stay open so he could _see_ it, see his come all over his tongue, and Cas was _looking_ up at him, and he was _still coming, oh, fuck—yes—fuck—FUCK!_

Dean stayed rigid and frozen for one second more, his last spurt of jizz shooting in Cas’s mouth, and one more sobbing groan escaping him before he sagged where he sat, panting, his eyes falling closed. He managed to crack open his eyes again after a moment, looking down where his fingers were still clamped around his prick, and Cas still hadn’t moved. His tongue was just barely touching the head of Dean’s cock, his mouth open and full of come, and then Dean quivered when Cas’s tongue moved enough to lick slowly and deliberately at the head of his dick, as if searching for any he might have missed.

And then he looked Dean right in the eye and fucking swallowed every bit of it.

Dean pried his stiff fingers off his cock and fell backwards with a _whump_ , landing in an uncomfortably bent shape but completely without any will to move. However, he hissed and his whole body jerked when he suddenly felt wet lips closing over his cock, and he managed to lift his head just enough to see that Cas was sucking at the head of his softening dick. Then he fell back again with a quavering moan when he felt Cas’s tongue pushing against him, his hand stroking like the little bastard was trying to milk Dean for more. But even though he didn’t think he had anything left, his balls gave one last little twitch, and he shuddered as Cas eagerly sucked up the last dribble that escaped him. _Fuck._

Dean just lay there like a slug, half-on and half-off the couch. He didn’t care that he was uncomfortable. He didn’t care that his neck hurt and his limp dick was hanging out. He didn’t even care that Cas was leaning his head high up on the inside of his thigh and was softly licking his nutsack. He just didn’t care about anything right now.

Eventually, though, he started to care that the sweat on his body was evaporating, so not only was he not hot anymore, but he was starting to get cold.

Oh—so that was it. That had been Cas’s plan all along. Douchebag.

It was an enormous struggle, but Dean managed to pull himself into a sitting position. Cas, of course, popped up on his knees like he was spring-loaded, his eyes all bright and his expression all soppy. Dean gave him a sour look that didn’t put him off in the slightest, ‘cause he just leaned forward to kiss him. Dean let him because he was too wiped out to do anything else.

Cas pulled back with a gooey look before standing up; Dean rested his elbows on his knees for a minute, gathering himself, and he ran his hand through his hair and over his face once before lurching to his feet, taking care not to look at Cas’s once more eye-level dick. Dean was starting to think that Cas actually wasn’t entirely oblivious about being naked—because he was always on the lookout to find some way to wave his tackle in Dean’s face.

Dean just gave Cas a tired pat on the butt, pushing him towards the bed; Cas quickly went around to his side and got in. Dean shuffled over to the other side, crawling in as well—and paused when he saw Cas getting under the blankets. He looked smugly content, and Dean glowered down at him. Yeah, he would be, since he’d spent this whole trip messing with Dean’s ass: groping it and biting it last night when Dean wasn’t in any position to stop him, then spooning with it when Dean was asleep, and now conning Dean into letting him get his tongue all up in it. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Someone needed to let him know where he stood on the bitchladder around here. And since there was nobody else here but Dean, with one swift motion he swept the blankets down, baring Cas’s backside, and then bent down and sank his teeth into one round butt cheek.

Cas let out a little yelp, flipping over and sitting up, looking half-confused and half-indignant. Dean just smirked at him before he grabbed his chin and leaned down to kiss him so he couldn’t bitch at him. Cas kissed back, of course, but when Dean pulled away, Cas was looking at him with furrowed brows, which just made Dean snort. He didn’t say anything, though, instead just reaching up and turning off the lamp. He flopped back down onto the pillows, pulling up one of the blankets (and just one, dammit), and after a moment, Cas lay down too, pulling all the rest of the covers on top of himself. Dean reached out and pulled him towards him, rolling him on his side and pressing up against his back—and most especially pushing his hips and his soft cock right up against his ass.

That’d teach him.


	2. Rock Me Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their next hunting stop, Cas keeps pushing the envelope, and Dean realizes that he’s a lot more comfortable with it than he thought.

_August 21, 2023_

God _dammit_ , how did he always get roped into this?

Or maybe the real question was _who_ always roped him into this?

Well, Dean knew the answer to that already—who else but the scrawny little cockhammer who was currently all stretched out beneath him, bumping his naked ass up against Dean’s hard-on?

Just the thought made him snarl wordlessly to himself, and he vented his frustrations by reaching down and swatting Cas’s butt before grabbing his hip and holding him still. He asked for it, so he could quit wiggling and just sit there and take it.

See, thing was, Dean _didn’t_ ask for it. No, he’d just wanted a job to do—and he’d gotten it. He’d been asleep in his motel room in Livingston a week ago and had been awakened by a phone call from Sammy—he’d got wind of a possible job out in Walla Walla, Washington. Incredibly stupid name aside, Dean and Cas were already halfway there, so Sam had suggested that the two of them go check it out; Sam would go with Bobby to investigate what looked like a haunting down in Iowa, and they could meet back up in Sioux Falls afterwards.

Why the hell not—Dean saw zero reasons to say no. So he’d blasted Cas out of bed and they’d hit the road. Only Dean was a bit uncomfortable, being on the job again with Cas after—after their little…time off, like that. Not to mention that he was starting to feel weird in general, just from being out on the road working with someone other than Sam for that long. But whatever, they had a job to do—hopefully it’d be something to make up for the bust their last run had turned out to be.

They’d rolled into town in time for Dean to have a _killer_ onion burger for dinner and find a place to stay while they were there. Next morning it was time to scope out the town and see what the deal was. Wasn’t hard to find—since the spring, something had been killing people in one of the local vineyards once a month on the new moon damn near like clockwork. Going into the morgue in the course of their investigation, Cas had taken one look at the reports of grape vines having been threaded through the victims’ _entire freaking digestive systems_ —talk about a cavity search—to know it was some kind of Mediterranean vineyard demigod living in a grape vine and taking sacrifices to keep its vineyard alive.

The place had gone crazy with winemaking in the past decade or so, and Dean guessed that something had moved in with the crops of grapes, either on its own or at the request of some bastard who didn’t mind paying out a little blood to keep his crop going. After some asking around, Dean was relieved to come to the conclusion it was the former, rather than the latter. The vineyard in question that was the center of the deaths was a large experimental plot run by a local college and involved importing Old World breeds of grapes into the area. Sounded like they just happened to pick up a vine with a nasty passenger.

After a day spent on research, they’d eventually found that the best method to put this bastard down was just the good, old-fashioned way: burning the plant it was living in. Unfortunately, what with all the different kind of vines the college had brought in, they’d had quite a task, trying to figure out just which plant it was that they needed to destroy. They’d taken in a sample of some of the vines from one of the poor saps the thing had killed to one of the professors at the place, and he’d given them an ID on the subspecies, but that wasn’t much help when the whole place was full of different varieties of a lot of the same kinds. Dean had had to break into the college offices late one night to get all the exact details on the whole field to even narrow it down to grapes from the right region. One look at the nightmare of a map had been pretty much all Dean needed to decide that they should just torch the whole thing and call it a night, but Cas had insisted that was a bad idea and had talked him out of it.

So they’d just staked the place out on the night of the new moon to try and spot the thing. They’d both revised Cas’s opinion of what was wise and what wasn’t when the goddamn thing had jumped them both from behind. The time for being wise was over—if Dean was being attacked by grapevines going for his _ass_ , he sure as fuck was gonna roast the thing. He’d been armed with a makeshift flamethrower and he’d let it have it; wasn’t enough to kill it, but was damn sure enough to scare it and send it scuttling off, leading Dean and Cas right to its home base in the process, and they sent it up in flames.

Dean had had no idea, though, that grapevines were so flammable. Or that it would be so hard to keep the fire from spreading—including all the smaller fires that the fucker had accidentally started as it ran away from them. Or that they’d be so hard to put out. 

So, through no fault of their own, they’d ended up pretty well torching the whole place anyway.

And that was their cue to leave. Immediately. They’d run to the car and Dean had put the pedal to the metal, tear-assing out of that town, burning rubber at top speed all through Montana, and not stopping until they were in Buffalo, Wyoming. They’d both napped during the day before in preparation for a long stakeout that night, but still, that was thirteen hours of straight driving, both of them sweaty, rumpled, and sooty, and by the end of it they were _done_. They’d pulled into the first dive they could find, rented a room, and just crashed.

It was early evening when they’d finally woken up, dragged unwillingly out of sleep by a call from Sam. Dean had grumpily reported back that they’d taken care of it. Sam had dryly answered that he knew—said that he’d been tracking the Washington news online and had seen the report of the vineyard fire, and he’d snottily informed him that _that_ lack of subtlety had Dean’s name all over it.

The bitch. Dean gave him a very thorough editorial on his comment and then told him where they were and that they’d be heading back to Sioux Falls tomorrow before hanging up on him.

Only then he kinda wished he hadn’t. He’d been left sitting on his bed, looking at Cas who was sitting up on his, both of them still filthy from the fire and blinking a bit stupidly at each other. Dean hadn’t felt uncomfortable being in a motel with Cas in years; work and play were kept strictly separate, with work first and play after, and that was that. But for some reason, sitting here like this, after they’d _already_ been on one hunt and then done their thing, only to go right out on another job, and here they were again…so what were they supposed to do now?

Leave it to Cas to solve that problem. Had Dean forgotten that the idiot was permanently set to “horny” when the two of them were out in a motel? Cas had just placidly informed Dean that he wanted to take a shower, only he’d followed it up with a _look_ and—well. Dean found that his awkwardness kind of melted away when he didn’t have to think about it.

So, one very long and very satisfying shower later, they’d gone driving around to scope out the town, looking for a late dinner. Cas had been a good sport during the job, letting Dean have all those really good onion burgers while they were in Washington—apparently they grew a lot of onions up there alongside their rapist grapevines—so Dean let him pick dinner. Buffalo wasn’t huge and didn’t have a staggering variety by way of restaurants, and in the end they’d ended up hitting a simple but pretty decent Chinese place; Cas stuffed his face with lo mein while Dean ate way too many spring rolls.

With dinner out of the way, they’d driven around town for a while, stocked up on road supplies at a gas station, filled up the car, and then, for lack of anything else to do, rolled on back to the motel.

Which led them to where they were now—bareass naked on the bed, Cas on his stomach, and Dean on top of him.

“You be still,” Dean rumbled, and Cas stopped all that damn distracting wiggling. Dean had given in and was gonna do this like Cas wanted, so Cas needed to stop being all coy and inviting and crap like he was still trying to convince him and just let him do it.

When they’d got back to the motel, Dean had been relaxed and very full, all that Chinese food making him drowsy, and had really just felt like lying around and watching some TV for a while. That had been fine; he’d stretched out on the bed (Cas had insisted on making them before they left for dinner), caught up with some of his shows and then watched the tail end of the original _Indiana Jones_. He wasn’t paying a lot of attention to whatever Cas was doing, and apparently Cas didn’t particularly approve of the situation. Right as the credits started to roll, Dean had found the remote being plucked from his fingers and the TV switched off, and then there was Cas all up in his business. He’d started to protest on principle, only Cas took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Dean’s open mouth, and that had more or less derailed that.

Dean was still mellow and full, so they’d ended up having themselves a nice, long, leisurely make-out session, and Dean would have been perfectly happy to round out the evening with just that. Naturally, it was the horny little holy roller who’d had to heat things up. Dean had let him, though—just because he was rolling his eyes at Cas’s eagerness didn’t necessarily mean he disapproved.

Things had stayed nice and easy until they were both bare; no surprise that things would start picking up pretty seriously once they got their cocks rubbing together. Only too much picking up like that could make things uncomfortable—chafing was not cool—and Dean had slowed their hips and pulled back from their kissing long enough to tell Cas to get some lube.

Cas had made Dean grunt when he first reached down and gave his dick an ornery squeeze, but then he’d rolled away to the other side of the bed where Dean’s bag was. Dean glared at him as he went, lightly tugging his own prick as he waited for him to get back, but when Cas leaned over the side of the bed, showing Dean the long curve of his back and that firm little ass, suddenly his own hand wasn’t good enough anymore. He wormed across the bed and grabbed Cas around the middle, making him jump, and then pulled himself in tight against his back, pressing against all that smooth warm skin he’d been eyeing.

Much better. He dragged his hands all up and down Cas’s sides and started nipping his way from the back of his neck down the line of his backbone. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Cas was having a lot of trouble getting into his bag, all fumbling around and not seeming to be getting anywhere. _Heh._ He smirked and redoubled his efforts, licking along his spine, and, for a little payback, danced his fingers right up Cas’s ticklish ribs, just to make him squirm.

Dean moved around as Cas wiggled, settling himself more or less on top of him where he was leaning over the side, and to his delight discovered that he’d managed to work it so that his prick was sandwiched right between Cas’s butt cheeks. He never got tired of that, man. He went back to his petting and nibbling, only he gave his hips an experimental thrust, and couldn’t help his satisfied exhale as his cock slid deliciously along the furrow of his ass.

He rocked his hips again, pressing down harder, and Cas made a soft noise; Dean figured that his weight was probably pushing Cas’s dick down to rub against the blankets, so he did it again, gripping his hip with one hand as he moved. He thought he could just keep this up all night—tasting all the smooth skin on Cas’s back, rubbing his prick on Cas’s ass, and listening to Cas’s rapid whistling breaths as he scrambled fruitlessly in his bag. But, of course, the other option was to flip Cas over and have his slick, lubed-up cock all up against his own while they kissed, and that really was the more appealing of the two.

Grinding his cock down against his ass, Dean moved from where he’d been kissing his neck to lean up over his shoulder, licking all the way up the side of his neck to murmur teasingly in his ear, “Come on, Cas—get the lube.”

Cas’s butterfingers scrabbled all around on Dean’s bag, and he saw him finally yank open the right pocket and send all the tubes of lube in there spilling out onto the floor. Dean snorted, letting go of the soft little earlobe he’d been sucking on and going back to nibbling on the nape of Cas’s neck.

He felt Cas straining a little beneath him, and then he rocked back upwards a little, and asked, “This kind, Dean?” And Dean glanced up, and Cas was looking coyly back at him over his shoulder, and he was holding up—was holding up the _thick_ stuff—the stuff they used when—when—

—when Dean did him in the _ass_ , that _sweet_ little ass, the one he was all pressed up against, all soft and round against his hips, the lube that made it so slippery when Dean was all up inside him, so slick and hot and tight around his cock when he _fucked_ him—

God _dammit_!

Dean jerked his head to the side, burying his face against the back of Cas’s neck so he wouldn’t see that stuff, stilling his hips and trying so hard not to think about _that_.

That sorry son of a bitch—Dean told himself he wasn’t going to _do_ that anymore! And since that time that he…that he’d really lost control, he _hadn’t_. Hadn’t even _considered_ it! Cas had tried to get him to once or twice since then, but Dean had shut him down, and no amount of angelic sad-face would make him change his mind, and that had been that.

Only now, on top of Cas like he was, pressed up against his back—pressed up against his _ass_ …

“Do you want to, Dean?” Cas’s voice was low and insinuating, and entirely against his will Dean’s eyes flicked up to see Cas still looking at him, his eyes lidded and his cheeks flushed, and Dean squeezed his eyes tightly shut again.

He let out a tight breath, breathed in again, trying to get himself under control, only to hear himself roughly answer, his voice thick: “…Maybe.”

Cas shifted beneath him, leaning down again, and—oh, that _bitch_ , he pushed his ass back against Dean’s prick on _purpose_! But then he tipped his shoulders up, and Dean heard the crinkle of plastic, and he knew what it was and didn’t want to look, but he did anyway and—shit, now Cas had a condom in his hand, and he was looking back at him again. “Can we, Dean? Please?” he murmured.

 _Fuck you, Cas. Just fuck you. And goddammit, I’m_ gonna _._

Snarling, Dean ripped the packet out of his hand and then rolled away and sat up on his knees, and before Cas could do anything, Dean had grabbed him by one arm and hauled him up into the middle of the bed, dropping him down face-first onto the pillows.

Cas started to roll over, his face already dropping in disappointment, but before he could say anything, Dean planted a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down, crawling to hover over him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, and then he ground his dick against his ass again, and this time he meant it.

God, there he went, Cas’s eyes just lighting up because _yay_ , he was gonna get banged in the bunghole! Cas immediately dropped back down on his stomach, looking over his shoulder at Dean, and then he started wiggling, moving his hips up and down to rub his ass back on Dean’s dick. He was moving around so much that Dean couldn’t even get the goddamn rubber on until he told him to be still. He did, but the excited way he was looking back at him was not helping Dean’s concentration; Dean had a good mind to smother him with a pillow.

He glanced down to make sure everything was where it needed to be—and he just got even more pissed off to see himself all wrapped like that, just made it all the more obvious that he’d been scammed into yet another round of buggery—before he reached over for the lube. Cas was still _watching_ him, still looking abso-fucking-lutely _thrilled_ , and Dean just gave a wordless growl of annoyance as he propped himself up on his hands and used his knees to push Cas’s legs apart before climbing up to straddle his ass.

He grabbed one cheek and squeezed as he grabbed the lube from where Cas had dropped it on the bed and thumbed it open, and then drew a line of it all over his cock, where it was resting right between Cas’s ass cheeks. He let go of his handful then and reached over to seize his cock in a loose fist, pumping it to spreading the lube all over, getting himself good and slicked up. Then he shifted, moving out of the way to squirt it between Cas’s cheeks, right there on his asshole that was just waiting for him. Dean snapped the tube closed and dropped it, not paying attention to where it landed except that it was out of the way; he didn’t care about looking at anything right now except his finger as he pushed against that tight little hole, watching it slide slowly inside of Cas.

His eyes flicked up towards the headboard when he heard Cas make a little sound in his throat, and Dean saw that he was pressing half of his face down into the pillow, his eyes finally closed. Dean pushed his finger in deeper, and looked down when he felt Cas start to relax, saw his finger slip in further, and _Jesus_ , Cas was loosening himself up while Dean was fingering him, he knew exactly what to do when he was gonna get ass-fucked, and Dean was the one who was gonna _do_ it—

Okay. He didn’t need to be watching this anymore. He leaned forward, catching himself on one arm to hold himself up, but still getting his front all down against Cas’s back where he could go back to scraping his teeth across his neck. He could still feel Cas’s ass clenched around his finger as it moved in and out of him, but he couldn’t see it, and he could deal with that a little better.

Dean closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the nape of Cas’s neck as he eased another finger into him. Cas shifted with another little groan, but then stilled, and Dean just listened to his quick breathing and concentrated on the feel of his own fingers slipping in and out of Cas’s ass. He moved his wrist, angling his fingers and pushing a little deeper, and got a louder moan for his troubles—yeah, he was working Cas open, getting him ready and all, but the little jackoff was enjoying it too, and Dean knew just what he liked best.

He leaned forward to lightly close his teeth around Cas’s ear right as he forced in a third finger, and Cas let out a whining noise and jerked a little beneath him, but Dean dropped his weight and mashed him down right where he was. He’d move when Dean said he could, and not before. “You be still and you take it, Cas,” he muttered in his ear, and under his chin he felt Cas’s neck break out in goosebumps.

“ _Yes_ , Dean, I will,” Cas breathed back.

Hey—who the hell told him he could say anything? “You be quiet,” Dean ordered, and then he pushed himself up, rising back up on his knees. He looked down and— _shit_ , his fingers were all the way up inside, Cas’s asshole all stretched wide—stretched wide and ready for Dean’s _cock_ —

Dean forced himself to pull them out slow, even though he’d wanted to get his fingers _out_ and his dick _in_ about two minutes ago, and then he hooked his feet up over Cas’s thighs and pushed his legs farther apart. Then he grabbed his dick, dragging the head all up and down Cas’s ass crack before bracing himself on the mattress and pushing in—oh, _fuck_ yes.

Dean had to bite his lip and close his eyes when Cas shifted beneath him again with a tiny little whimper; he couldn’t hear that and see his cock going inside him and _feel_ his cock going inside him and not just go fucking crazy right there. He held himself still, shaking, giving Cas a minute with just the head of his prick in, and then gave a small thrust forward. Cas let out a shuddering breath but sounded okay, so Dean pulled back out and then pushed forward a little deeper.

Jesus _Christ_ , this was nuts—he didn’t want to _do_ this, but once he’d started, it was _so fucking good_ and it took all he had not to just _plow_ Cas’s ass. But he didn’t. No, what he did was let go of his dick and get a firm grip on Cas’s ass with both hands. spreading his cheeks as Dean started slowly rocking his hips, spreading them wide so he could see it, so Dean could watch his cock going in and out of Cas’s asshole—so he could watch while he _fucked_ him.

Shit—he couldn’t keep watching that if he wanted to last longer than two minutes. His eyes squeezed shut as his head fell backwards, and he panted towards the ceiling as he thrust. That didn’t help much, though, ‘cause Cas was making these happy little noises every time Dean thrust forward, and Dean could tell he was loving this, and god _damn_ , he was so hot inside, and he was squeezing Dean’s dick so tight with his ass that Dean could hardly stand it.

Cas started to move, and Dean opened his eyes and looked down at him. His fingers were knotted tightly on the pillow and he was moving, pushing up, his shoulders rolling as they lifted, even though his head was hanging down, and he was panting as he tried to rock his own hips, changing their angle against Dean’s movements.

Dean let out a growl and let go of his ass and dropped down again, landing hard against his back; Cas grunted as Dean’s weight hit him and they both thumped back down on the mattress. Dean told him to be _still_ , goddammit. But leaned down like this, now Dean had changed the angle, and he rocked his hips way back and then drove them sharply forward, and Cas let out a helpless little whistling gasp. “Is _that_ what you want, huh?” Dean demanded, his mouth by his ear, and each time he punctuated his words with a hard thrust deep into his ass. “Is _that_?”

“Oh—I— _ah!_ — _Yes_ , Dean, I—”

“You shut up,” he growled, and then he clamped his teeth on the soft, sweaty skin of his shoulder. Cas was moaning now, and Dean used his elbow to hold his weight and wormed his arm under Cas and around his shoulders and he yanked him back against his chest, holding him tight to him so he couldn’t move unless Dean let him. But he wasn’t about to right now, oh no, because where he was right now was fucking _perfect_ , he could thrust in so _deep_ , and every time he did, Cas moaned again. “Yeah, I know that’s what you want, y’little pervert,” Dean rumbled in his ear, still rocking his hips. “Always wantin’ my cock up your ass. Always wantin’ me to make you my little bitch.”

One of Cas’s hands had blundered up to wrap around his forearm where Dean was squeezing him, and his head was hanging down so that his face was against the pillow, except when he would lift up to turn around and look at Dean, but every time he did, Dean just rolled his hips and sent Cas’s head flopping helplessly back down with a breathy groan. Dean decided that Cas was being way too quiet with just those little girly moans, so he let him go, still thrusting as Cas pushed back up on his knees, but Dean slowed his hips until he was up and could angle just right before he just _buried_ his cock in Cas, his balls slapping between his spread legs, and Cas collapsed into the pillows with a breathless little shriek. And Dean kept going, moving faster, pulling back and ramming him over and over until Cas just _howled_ , fuck yes, _that_ was what he wanted to hear!

The only trouble was that was so fucking hot that if Dean kept up this pace, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Bringing his hips to a standstill, he raised up until he could grab one of Cas’s skinny legs around the thigh and drew it up, pushing it under his own to bend up next to him, and he used it to raise his hips and tilt Cas to the side. Cas rolled along with it, his shoulders flexing, rocking his head to the side where it rested on the pillow, his face flushed and his lips trembling as he looked back at Dean.

Dean ignored him (or tried to, anyway—it was damn near impossible not to look at him like that, with that well-fucked look on his face, breathing through his mouth in quick little pants, his long fingers flexing restlessly in the sheets as he watched Dean) and just grabbed the lube, giving another shot all along his own cock where it was still half-in his ass, and then tossed the tube aside so he could smear it all around, not only down where he was fucking Cas, but also all over his own fingers. He gripped Cas’s hip with his dry hand, tilting him a little further, and then snaked his other hand under his leg to grab his balls. Cas made a sharp little noise and then tipped his hips back and drew his leg up further, and Dean reached forward to get his slippery fingers wrapped tight around Cas’s stiff prick. At the first stroke, Cas’s eyes fluttered shut, his hips jerking a little, and Dean hissed as his ass clenched around his cock. Slowly, he started picking up the pace with both his hand and his hips, holding himself up on his free hand as he started to jerk Cas while he fucked him.

Cas’s dick was already all leaky when Dean first grabbed it, and he definitely recognized those little whining noises escaping his mouth—he was getting close. Dean leaned down on his elbow again, driving his prick deeper into Cas’s ass and making him gasp. Curving his spine until his mouth reached Cas’s shoulder, he kissed it once before he bit down on it, gently this time, just for a minute. Cas lifted his head, and when Dean strained forward to drag his stubbly cheek over Cas’s smooth one, he tilted his neck back until his tongue could meet Dean’s in a sloppy kiss.

Dean rocked back again, reaching down to grip Cas’s hip tightly so he could thrust harder, faster, and he was jerking Cas’s cock harder and faster too. Cas was full-on whimpering now, and he buried his face in the pillow, fisting his hands in the sheets. “ _Dean_ ,” he gasped, and his voice was muffled by the pillow, but the sound of it sent a sharp spike of icy fire right down Dean’s spine and into his balls, and he gritted his teeth and redoubled his pace.

“Come on, Cas,” he ground out, furiously tugging Cas’s dick, his fingers squeezing on Cas’s hip as he thrust, tilting his hips just right. “You _come_ —you give it to me _right now_.”

Cas let out a breathless, keening wail, his hips fruitlessly trying to move against Dean’s restraining hands, and then _fuck_ yes, he broke down into helpless sobs, thrashing around and crying out Dean’s name over and over again as he came, and Dean kept jerking him, kept _fucking_ him, not letting up for a second, wringing every last drop out of him until he had nothing left and was just a limp, shaking wreck beneath him.

In his own humble opinion, the fact that Dean actually held still for a little bit afterwards to give Cas a minute to remember where he was was nothing short of heroic. But the time for heroism was fucking _over_ —Dean let go of his prick and grabbed Cas’s hips in a punishing grip, lube and come smearing under his palm, and rolled him back on his stomach and pressed him down flat. He swung his leg up and over him again, mounting up for his ride into the sunset, before he rocked his hips back until he’d almost pulled out, and then just _slammed_ forward, hard and fast, again and again, fucking _riding_ his ass, and Cas let out a helpless quavering moan and _fuck_ , Dean hadn’t thought he was going to last much longer before but hearing that just about did him in. He squeezed his eyes shut and just kept thrusting wildly, already losing his rhythm, he was close, _so_ close, just needed a little more of that ass, that tight little ass, and he opened his eyes and Cas was fucking _looking_ back at him and then Dean looked down and he could see his cock up his asshole, oh _fuck_ , he was coming, shit-yes-fuck, he was _coming_ all inside his _ass_ , shit, yes—shit— _SHIT—!_

Dean roared incoherently at the ceiling, _pounding_ his hips against his ass, and Cas let out his own little cry and fuck fuck FUCK _YES_!

Dean blinked sluggishly. He supposed he should move from where he’d fallen as his muscles went slack and the adrenaline from his orgasm drained away, landing heavily on top of Cas and smushing him down into the bed, but he really didn’t have the energy. He could only lie there and try to catch his breath, listening to Cas’s shallow breathing beneath him, watching his eyelashes move against his cheek while he blinked, and enjoying the tight heat still clamped around his softening prick.

Eventually, he moved. Well, “moved” probably wasn’t the right word; he just kind of oozed off of Cas and to the side, unable to help the piteous little moan that escaped him as his dick finally slipped out of his ass. He was still kinda half-on-top of Cas, but at least now he wasn’t mashing him, and Cas could actually take a deep breath now, rather than just lying there with Dean squeezing all the air out of him. Idiot.

Jesus. He’d been all dozy and relaxed before when he’d been watching TV, but now he was just completely wiped out. See, this was why he’d just wanted to make out, but no, Cas had to take it further. And just an easy little frot wasn’t good enough for him, no, he wanted _sex_ too, never mind that Dean just wanted to go to bed. Scowling, he cracked open one eye to glare at the back of Cas’s head. Cas was oblivious, of course, just lying there, holding Dean’s sticky hand where it had flopped down across him.

Dean grunted and thought about moving. He figured that was a start. Only then he had to go look down, and he saw his dick still all covered in the used bag, and okay, that was just disgusting and he needed that off ASAP. He tugged his hand away from Cas and forced himself to sit up, careful not to get any of that mess anywhere else even while trying not to look at it, and scooted over to the edge of the bed. “Come on, Cas,” he said over his shoulder. “Gotta get cleaned up.”

He stood, only wobbling a little, and then stiffly made his way over to the sink. He peeled off the condom with the tips of his fingers, grimacing, and then wadded it up in a handful of tissues before stuffing it deep in the trashcan. Straightening, he went to washing his hands—very thoroughly—and gingerly wiped down his dick with a washcloth too, twisting up his face at the thought of where it had just been. He finished up just in time to see Cas tottering past him into the bathroom and to be on the receiving end of one of those drippy looks of his as he went in.

Dean glared at him as he grabbed a washcloth, but he abruptly left when Cas leaned down to start some water running in the tub; Dean really didn’t want to watch him cleaning up, particularly when what he was cleaning up was another reminder that Dean had gone ass-mining again.

He stumped across the room and had a near-miss when he almost threw himself down on the bed again only to just in time see the spatters of spunk Cas had gone and spewed all over the sheets. Damn near caught himself midair to keep from landing in the middle of that, and he spared the bathroom door a black look before he threw the rumpled covers over that mess so he wouldn’t have to see it, and then made his way to the other bed and crawled in, rolling heavily on his back with a loud exhale.

Shit.

Dean scowled up at the ceiling. What he hell. He’d just gone and had sex with Cas. Again. After he’d said he wasn’t going to do that anymore. He hadn’t even _wanted_ to have sex with Cas—but the minute Cas asked for it, it was all he could think about. So he did it. And liked it.

Double shit.

And the worst of it was that he knew it would happen again. Oh, he’d held out for a year against Cas’s whining, but in the end he’d caved. _‘Cause whatever Baby wants, Baby gets_ , he sourly sneered to himself. Didn’t matter that Dean didn’t like to, didn’t matter that Cas was always shaky and sore afterwards because Dean didn’t know what he was doing with a guy and because Cas’d had something _crammed up his ass_ , for fuck’s sake. Nope—Cas had these ridiculous ideas about what they needed to do together, so he was just gonna find some way to make Dean do it and damn the consequences.

The light in the bathroom snapped off, and Dean glowered at Cas as he emerged, only he headed right for the sink and started brushing his teeth. So that meant he was gonna be there for, oh, another hour or two. Naked, incidentally, and bending over the sink edge like he was doing just made his ass stick out; with a discomfited huff, Dean rolled over on his side and away from him.

But that was no relief, because an uncomfortable thought had just occurred to him. He wasn’t gonna lie to himself and pretend that they weren’t gonna do that anymore. Not that he wanted to, but he knew it was gonna happen. One way or another—either with his pathetic cow eyes or by working him up so bad that he just couldn’t say no—Cas would eventually talk Dean into doing his butt again. Because he was a douchebag. And if that was the case, if this was going to become a sorta-regular, not-just-a-one-off thing, then they should probably both…get checked out.

Dean squirmed uncomfortably where he was before flopping over on his back again. God, that was the last thing he wanted to do. And he probably even didn’t need to, either. Cas had never had sex in his life before Dean, and he didn’t think that the old vessel had had anything, not after having an angel trawling around in it and keeping it in showroom condition for the four-odd years before Cas had been permanently depowered. And Dean was probably fine too. The last (real) woman he’d had sex with was Lisa and—dear Lord Jesus Christ, had he really not had sex with anyone but Cas for the past _thirteen years?_!

That locked him up for a minute, but he snapped out of it and managed to shake it off. Okay, fine, whatever—the point was that he’d been clean back then, and since then it had only been Cas. As such, they probably didn’t need to. But no—Dean couldn’t do that. “No glove, no love” had been his policy his whole life and it had served him well—he wasn’t about to break his own rules now. Especially after the one time he— _might_ have—accidentally— _maybe_ slipped up, it’d come back to bite him hard on the ass. It was for the sake of safety—he couldn’t knock Cas up (thank _God_ ), but there was always a chance he could pass him something else—or vice versa. He’d just have to find some time to sneak off to a clinic while on the road and Sam was doing something else. He’d…figure out what to do about Cas later.

Speaking of, the water in the sink had finally shut off, and Dean, steeling himself for the worst, shot a tense, dark look at Cas as he watched him turn around and make his way to the bed. Except…he looked all right. Dean had fully expected to have to watch him doing that horrible duck-walk he always got after he’d been fucked, but…he really did look mostly okay. Maybe a little unsteady, but he didn’t look to be in any pain, at least.

Well. Looked like Dean was getting the hang of being gay after all.

_I mean it, Cas. Fuck. You._

Dean glowered at him all the way across the room and as he turned down the blankets on the other side and crawled into bed with a satisfied little sigh. Just what the fuck did he have to be so pleased about, anyway? Yeah, so he’d talked Dean into going total homo, but the fact remained that Cas was the one who’d gotten drilled in the butt! Why in God’s name was that something to be happy about? Why the fuck did he even _want_ that? That was not normal!

And when Cas rolled over to face him, all serene and soppy, Dean couldn’t stand it. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded. Cas raised his head, his brows furrowing a little. “Why are you always trying to get me to do you in the ass?”

Cas’s face just smoothed out then, despite Dean’s annoyance. “Because it’s something that you enjoy, Dean, and I want to do that for you,” he said earnestly.

 _Oh, you sorry rat-bastard._ Dean gave him a ferocious glare. “Don’t you even try and tell me that, you prancing little prick,” he grated. “I told you back—back when we first did it that that was no kind of reason!”

Cas was unperturbed. “I know—and I enjoy it too, Dean. Very much,” he said softly—and he fucking _looked_ at him when he said it.

If Dean hadn’t been so worn out, he would have punched him. ‘Cause he deserved it. But since he was, all he did was huff and roll over on his side, tucking his arm under his pillow and deliberately closing his eyes. After a minute of stillness, Cas moved a little, the bed shifting under his weight, and with a snap of the lamp above their heads, the room behind Dean’s eyelids went dark. Cas settled down under the covers, and then the mattress moved again as he started wiggling closer, until Dean could feel the heat of him. Dean scowled, refusing to open his eyes, even when one of his skinny arms slid around his middle.

But after a moment he grudgingly moved to drape his own arm over Cas’s warm bare waist.

_Bastard._


End file.
